Cinderella?
by tearysilver
Summary: The mere thought of the ball made me want to throw up. I backed away.
1. Meeting John

**New story, I keep getting side tracked! Dx i apologize! xD**

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><p>"The prince is giving a ball!" The royal messenger shouts in the streets, passing by bakerys, winerys, pastry shops, and other markets, gathering items and tucking a large list under his pudgy arm. He smiles and passes out invitations and good greetings to the townspeople rushing around me. I think stubbornly,<p>

_I'd never go to the ball! wearing a dress? please!_ I had never been a big fan of ball gowns, makeup or jewelry. Even my long hair, that reached down to my waist had bothered me, but stepmother never let me cut it, knowing how it pestered me so. She made sure my life was miserable, that woman. Her and her two daughters. I clicked my tongue, taking a small step off of the curb, not seeing the woman and her children buzzing by, trying to get a better ear for the large announcement of the prince. Knocking me off of my feet, I dropped the large bags I held in my hand, the boxes of dresses, shoes, jewelry to the dirty pavement. My knee stung, a trickle of blood rolling down my tan leg. I breathed through my teeth, trying to pick up the dropped objects.

"Are you ok, sir?" a deep voice asked from behind me. I nodded, struggling to get some rings that rolled into the streets. I sighed and stood up, plucking each dimond ring from the gravel.

"I'm fine, just a little cut up, is all." I say, lowering my voice from its natural high stance. I was slightly taken aback from the 'sir' but quickly remembered my attire, my pants, puffy shirt and long hair put up in a messenger hat. Of course he would think I was a boy. I mentally slap myself for being so dumb.

"Thank you, sir." I say, standing up as he hands me three large bags. I balance everything as I had before and begin to walk away. But before I can, the man stops me again.

"Um excuse me, young lad, might I ask you a question?" The man is tall, tan, with dark hair and slanted eyes. He gives off an air of kindess, so I stay, nodding my head to hear his question.

"Well, what do you think about this ball? Has the prince gone too far to find love?" I want to throw up at the mere thought of the ball, backing away from the man. His face hold concern as he puts his hands infront of him

"Oh, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drown you in my questions." He seems sad, like hes hididng something. I step closer to him.

"I think the ball is abit over done." I declarely simply. He nods, and pats my shoulder.

"Thank you, lad." He gives it a firm squeeze and begins to walk away. I head my own way, looking for stepmother.

"Oh, lad!" The mans voice calls again over the buzz of excited people. I turn around and nod again. He steps closer.

"I never caught your name. Mine is Paolo." I gulp past the large lump that resides in my throat. I had to think of a name? I never thought anyone would actually take me for a boy. My face was too girly. I scramble my brain for a name, then it hits me like a ton of bricks.

"John. My name is John." my fathers name.

"Nice to talk to you, John." I nod again, and speed walk down to centre village, looking for stepmother.


	2. Chores

**Home life of sir, "John"**

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><p>After reaching home, Stepmother demanded me to begin the chores while they took their beauty nap.<p>

"We'll need it for the ball tomorrow night, Cinderella. We must look our best if one of your sisters is to marry the prince!" and with that, they whisked away upstairs to dream of the impossible.

I walked into the kitchen, sliding the large wooden doors closed and grabbed a broom. The handle was rough and splintery, creating friction on my hands. I began to sweep the already clean floor in the already clean kitchen in our already clean house. Stepmother seemed to not notice the fact I clean constantly and that sometimes, the house is too clean, to clean anymore. I placed the broom in the corner and grabbed a laundry basket, placing the clean clothes on the counter and began folding and hanging the on copper hangers. when I'm finished, I go by the fire place and sit down on the wooden rocker by it, rocking back and forth.

"Cinderella, get the bags! Cinderella, rub my feet! Cinderella! Cinderella!" I mock their voices, taking off my messenger hat and running my hand through long light brown hair. I rub my palms against my black slacks, sighing at my attire. Maybe, truthfully, the ball didn't make me as sick as I once thought. Maybe I did like to wear dresses and jewelry. Maybe...

No! Father lost Mother at a ball, and Father met Stepmother at a ball. I hate balls, and dresses, and jewelry and anything about royal dances, I think as I stand to snuff out the small flames that had been resididng in the place. I pick up a spoon that had been laying by the sink and begin to mimick stepmothers story of when she had met my father.

"Well, you see Cinderella, Your father met me at the kings festival, a royal ball he has to celebrate his sons and daughters. Me and your father hitched there. I thought it was the happiest day of mine and my two daughters lives, then we met you." I added enphasis on 'you' like she had. "And realized, it was devistating." I placed the spoon down in the sink, picking up a teacup plate, fanning my face with it pretending to be Ivy.

"I almost died when I seen you face, Cinder-ugly." I place the plate down and put my hands on my hips, acting like Magenta.

"Yeah, Why can't you be prettier? I don't want to puke every morning, you know!" I take my hand off my hips and feel my body sink forward. My confidence lying in pieces over the floor. I would retaliate, but why bother? both were ugly and they both knew it. What could I say? It hurt when they told me the things that were wrong with me, so why bother?

I walked out into the living room, picking up the boxes and bags and walking back into the kitchen, preparing to hang up their new ball gowns, shoes, jewelry and makeup to place in their rooms. Magenta's dress was big and puffy, perfect for her fuller figure. The bows were as big as her head, and it was brihgt orange, her favorite color. I shivered in disgust and folded the dress neatly. I found her clunky orange heels and bright orange feather fan and placed them on her dress.

Next was Ivy's outfit. It was very small at the waiste and large at the hips, in a soft, yet ugly purple. Her unmatching blue shoes and purple and blue fan already on top of the dress. I placed it next to Magenta's. Gosh, they had bad taste. Next was Stepmothers. Hers was small at the waiste and big in the back, in a sharp blue. It had small bows and came down in a small square shape on the chest. It was beautiful. Her pale white heels and white feather fan again, already on her outfit.

I think about my untouched section of my closet, the dresses Stepmother buys me on my birthday every year. I think about a specific one, one that is perfect for the ball.

_Should I go? It would be fun, to be a girl for one night. For just one night, then go back to being John, like the man at the market believes me to be. I could ask stepmother. I could wear a mask, so no one knows it's me! _

_NO! _another part of my brain screams. _You don't need that ball, you are perfectly fine with being John the rest of your life._ I grab my head, a migrane forming in the back of my head. I shake it off, and pick up the boxes that hold three seperate outfits. slipping into Ivy's and Magenta's room, I place Ivy's box on her night stand and Magenta's on her nightstand. They lay in heaps on their beds, snores and grunts coming from open mouths. I walk into Stepmothers room, to see she's not in her bed, but by her window, staring out fixedly.

"Stepmother, I have brought you your ball gown." I say quietly, laying down on her black and blue canopy bed. She turns slighty, and gives a weak smile. "Thank you, Cinderella." She looks back towards the window. I play out our entire converation about me going to the ball, but every time i ask, she says no. I gulp.

"Stepmother?" I ask again. She turns around, sad lines around her red lips. "What is it, Cinderella?" shes slighty frustrated. I ring my hands.

"Well, I was wondering, if maybe, I could, um, go to the ball?" Her eyes widen. She seems taken aback, but smiles a deviace smile.

"Of course you can, Cinderella! You just have to have your chores complete and a dress picked out and you may go." I smile, wide, then catch my excitement and place a plastered half smile on my face.

"Thank you, Stepmother." I walk out of the room, closing the door, and do a small dance.

I was going!


	3. The Dress

**Devistation the next day**

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><p>I quickly began to make the house shine brighter than it ever has. I scrubbed the windows, polished the floors and dishes, swept, mopped, put away clothes, cleaned the chimney, tideyed up the bathroom, cleaned Ivy and Magenta's rooms. The whole place just seemed to glow with the scent of orange and lemon. Next, I ran up the stairs to my tower room, which was originally fathers and mothers painting room. The room still smelled of paints and water, my four pet mice loving it.<p>

"I'm going, Reginal, Spanky, Allen and Alexa! I'm going to the ball." I pick up their golden mice cage and twirl around the room with it, placing it on my bed. I then go to my large wooden wardrobe, opening the two doors. I move all my pants and shirts to one side of the wardrobe and take out mothers wedding dress. It's large, but sintches tiny at the waiste, in long white swirls. It's sleeveless, a corset design that covers the chest. I take out her matching white shoes and gloves and pin up my long hair, placing a white ribbon bow at the crown of my head. I look at myself in the mirror, and I feel the tears behind my eyes.

I looked just like mother.

I heard Stepmother down stairs, Drilling Ivy and Magenta on what to say to the prince. I quickly ran down the tower stairs and the house stairs to see Ivy and Magenta, done up in their horrid dresses, looking confident and punctual. Stepmother in her beautiful gown, heading out the door.

"Oh, wait! Please wait!" I shout, out of breath. Ivy and Magenta's face red with anger, look at Stepmother. I catch up to them and smile, twirling in the wedding dress.

"Isn't it lovely?" I ask, twirling again. Magenta and Ivy look at each other and in unision, tug on Stepmother's arms.

"She's not going, is she?" Magenta asks angrily.

"She _can't _go! Mother, please!" Stepmother shrugged them off and stepped towards me.

"Now, girls, thats enough! I told Cinderella she could go, so she may go. Under two conditions. The house is cleaned and she has a dress." Magenta smiled crookedly, stepping over Stepmother.

"Ivy, does that look like your bow on her head?" Ivy glinted, stepping next to Magenta.

"No, thats hers-OW!" Magenta elbowed her side, cocking her head roughly to the side.

"Uh, oh! yes it does!" She screams angrily, ripping out a few of my hairs to snatch the bow off. soon, they both were tearing at my dress, ruining the fabric, hacking away at the felt. I tried to push them off, but their thick hands were on a mission to destroy mothers dress as best as possible. I could feel the tears well in my eyes, but fought them off. They wouldn't get the pleasure of seeing me cry. When they finally stepped away, satisfied, my hair was tangled, my mothers wedding dress was shreds, barley clinging onto my body, and at my feet.

"Now, Cinderella, you can't possibly go in that!" Stepmother said, walking out the door. Magenta and Ivy right behind her, sticking their pink tongues out at me. I fliped them off, thier moths dropping into small O's.

How could they?

I ran upstairs.


	4. God Mother?

**God Mother?**

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><p>I seen the carriadge stroll away, Ivy and Magenta fighting for a window seat. Mothers little angels. I ran to my closet, angry, and tore out every dress that hung in the oak box, throwing each one on the floor, stomping and tearing. Each dress was a dissaointment, each dress a reminder of how incredibly stupid I was fr thinking about going to a place where I lost both parents.<p>

_"You foolish boy. What hope did you think you had?" _a voice in my head tisks, filling my mind. I grab my hair, throwing myself to the floor. I can feel the water flowing down my face, and I scold myself for letting them come. Small heaves escaping my red smeared lips. I stand up, grabbing my normal boy clothes, switching them with my ragged dress. I felt better. I felt normal.

_"You feel like a boy."_

"I feel like a boy."

"Well, that's not something to say aloud, is it?" I hear a voice behind me. I spin around, my cap falling off my head to the mystery persons black booted feet. The voice was a girl, about my age, with torn slacks, a black shirt and long black hair put in a ponytail. Her skin was pale, her makeup like a gypsy's, dark and menacing.

"Who are you?" I ask, backing up against a wall. She twirled around my room.

"Who would want to admit they felt like a boy?" She steps closer to me, and i see she has blue eyes. She takes my hand, and tries to take me downstairs. I pull away and grab by staright razor from my dresser.

"I said, who are you? Answer my question!" I point the tip at her, holding to the silver handle with both hands, shaking in fear. She laughs, pushing the blade down and placing her arm over my shoulders, walking me down the tower stairs.

"I'm Sienna, your godmother! Fairy, to be exact!" I stopped on the last step, looking at her. Her, black polished hands, her scary blue eyes. I slid the blade back in, placing it in my pocket.

"Fairy?" She gives me a look as if saying, "Do I really need to repeat myself?" I place my hands in the air in mock apologies. She guides me outside, where I seen a large white carriage, coachman, and black stallions. My eyes go wide, and she snaps her fingers. The carriage doors open, the steps falling into place.

"Believe me now?"


	5. The Ball

**God Mother?**

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><p>I seen the carriadge stroll away, Ivy and Magenta fighting for a window seat. Mothers little angels. I ran to my closet, angry, and tore out every dress that hung in the oak box, throwing each one on the floor, stomping and tearing. Each dress was a dissaointment, each dress a reminder of how incredibly stupid I was fr thinking about going to a place where I lost both parents.<p>

_"You foolish boy. What hope did you think you had?" _a voice in my head tisks, filling my mind. I grab my hair, throwing myself to the floor. I can feel the water flowing down my face, and I scold myself for letting them come. Small heaves escaping my red smeared lips. I stand up, grabbing my normal boy clothes, switching them with my ragged dress. I felt better. I felt normal.

_"You feel like a boy."_

"I feel like a boy."

"Well, that's not something to say aloud, is it?" I hear a voice behind me. I spin around, my cap falling off my head to the mystery persons black booted feet. The voice was a girl, about my age, with torn slacks, a black shirt and long black hair put in a ponytail. Her skin was pale, her makeup like a gypsy's, dark and menacing.

"Who are you?" I ask, backing up against a wall. She twirled around my room.

"Who would want to admit they felt like a boy?" She steps closer to me, and i see she has blue eyes. She takes my hand, and tries to take me downstairs. I pull away and grab by staright razor from my dresser.

"I said, who are you? Answer my question!" I point the tip at her, holding to the silver handle with both hands, shaking in fear. She laughs, pushing the blade down and placing her arm over my shoulders, walking me down the tower stairs.

"I'm Sienna, your godmother! Fairy, to be exact!" I stopped on the last step, looking at her. Her, black polished hands, her scary blue eyes. I slid the blade back in, placing it in my pocket.

"Fairy?" She gives me a look as if saying, "Do I really need to repeat myself?" I place my hands in the air in mock apologies. She guides me outside, where I seen a large white carriage, coachman, and black stallions. My eyes go wide, and she snaps her fingers. The carriage doors open, the steps falling into place.

"Believe me now?"


End file.
